Cardiac Arrest
by Omega19x
Summary: Even though some said he didn’t have one, L Lawliet always knew his heart would be the death of him. He just didn’t expect it to be quite like this... COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Insert Disclaimer Here: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters in it

Insert Disclaimer Here: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters in it. The only thing I own is a pet peeve involving authors who write terrible fanfiction about L getting diabetes from eating too much sugar. Sugar does not cause diabetes. It's a medical myth. So in retaliation, here's something a little more plausible.

. . .

"Ryuuzaki!"

The shouts of the other taskforce members rang like distant bells in his ears.

L was going to die, and he knew it. The tightness in his chest turned into a sharp pain. It spread, quickly radiating up his neck, through his flank and down his limbs. His heart raced. And it surprised him that he could at focus on a few thoughts besides the pain.

First, that Light Yagami was, without a doubt, Kira.

And second, that even though his life was over… at least it wasn't going to be by Kira's hands…


	2. Policy

It all started ten years before death by heart attack became linked with Kira.

The almost fifteen-year-old L sat awkwardly in an unfamiliar chair. As one that preferred the solitude of a dim room and the companionship of his books and endless casework, the boy would rather have been anywhere else than this waiting room. The bright lights made him feel as though he were being watched. The loud noise of the door kept him on edge, and he clenched the sides of his jeans whenever someone walked in or out.

"Why must we come here?"

He glanced up at the elderly gentleman on his left.

"You are nearly of age." Watari replied with a soft smile. "Before you are permitted to leave the care of the orphanage, it is mandatory that you receive a clean bill of health. Resent it if you must, but policy is policy."

"Roger put you up to this."

It was a statement, not a question. L looked at his guardian, and his guardian simply returned the glance.

"He expressed concern on your behalf, yes." Watari eventually answered. It was little wonder that L was already one of the world's greatest detectives. His deductive reasoning skills were second to none. And there was nothing that the elder gentleman could hide from the boy slouching beside him.

L tensed as the door slammed against the bookshelf again.

"Lawliet." A woman called out. "Come on back, please."


	3. Examination

L sat even more awkwardly on the examination table, having kicked off his shoes in favor of digging his toes into the disposable paper. Voices could be heard from behind the door, discussing his peculiarities with considerable detail.

"If you were going to spend so much time talking outside the room, you could have left me back at the house." L announced nonchalantly as the door opened. A man in his upper forties entered the room behind his guardian. He pulled a pen out of his front pocket, and rolled it against his front teeth.

"Hello, Lawliet."

"You remember Doctor Watson." Watari gestured politely. Regardless of the statement, however, the doctor reached out his hand as though he were meeting his patient for the first time.

"Yes." L looked at the extended hand while he used his to scratch his head. "Vaguely. I recall accompanying Roger when he grew concerned over Nate's reluctance to walk."

The doctor eventually retracted his hand.

"Then let's make this brief." the doctor put away his pen. L could see it in the man's eyes, however, that this would be anything but brief. From the instant he opened the door, the doctor was studying L as much as L was studying him. He watched the man's mind move, gathering evidence as if his body were a crime scene.

What bothered L most was that he wasn't 100 certain what evidence he was gathering. The doctor seemed fixated on almost every detail – his large black eyes, his long slender fingers, the way he balanced as he crouched.

"Stand over here for me, please."

Unfortunately, the crime scene on the examination table could say little in the way of an alibi. He climbed down, stepped onto the scale and sighed.

"A very slim forty three kilograms." He took note, and moved the bar down onto L's head. "Stand up straight, now."

L arched his back slightly, pushing the bar up about two and a half centimeters, but slumped back into his usual position. "Is that any better?"

"I'm afraid not. Can you stand up straight for me again, please?"

He rolled his shoulders back, and the joints popped quietly. This time, his head didn't even hit the bar.

"I think we can go about this a different way." Dr. Watson added, putting a hand on L's shoulder. "I want you to take off your shirt, and bend forward."

"That will not give you an accurate measure of my height." L replied as he stepped off the scale. Begrudgingly, he pulled the oversized shirt over his head as he turned away from the doctor. He felt the man's eyes study him for several moments before large hands began pressing against his back.

Starting at the base of his neck, the fingers kneaded an uneven line down to the sagging waistband of his jeans. "I expected as much."

L raised an eyebrow. Watari's footsteps covered up his thoughtful murmur. The doctor stopped prodding, and L took the opportunity to stand up.

His thin body readily displayed the doctor's observations. His shoulders rounded over unevenly, and one side of his ribs stuck out further than the other. His vertebrae curled from side to side like a loose piece of string, and unattractive stretch marks covered a significant part of his lower back.

"I see." Watari rubbed his chin, surprised that no one had ever noticed this before. He had to remind himself that L's typical manner of dress made observing such deformities almost impossible. And L had never given any indication of being the least bit bothered by them either.

Now, however, with their eyes piercing his exposed skin, L began to grow unavoidably self-conscious. He tried one last time to straighten out his back before slumping back into his familiar posture. He had to admit it now. Reasoning ability had little to do with it. That was just a line he made up to keep Mail and Mihael from bugging him endlessly, like children tend to do. He didn't straighten up, simply because he couldn't.

He turned around slowly, keeping his eyes low as he reached for his shirt.

"Wait just a moment." The doctor stopped him, focusing intently on the front of his chest. Given how L was standing, it was difficult to see. His breastbone was sunken, as if it could just cave in.

L watched them watch him curiously. His eyes dropped down to his chest and then back up again.

"It's always been like that." He nervously scratched his leg with his other foot. "Can I put my shirt back on now?"

"Actually, no." Dr. Watson answered softly, passing a paper gown over to L. The detective held it tenderly in his fingertips, examining it while the doctor peeked his head out of the door. "Nurse, when Lawliet is ready, take him down to radiology for a set of spinal x-rays. Anterior-posterior and a lateral, please."

"Right away, sir." The voice echoed in the hallway before another door slammed. Again, L tensed up. Though this time, it had a little less to do with the door and more about the situation at hand.


	4. Elaboration

L walked slowly beside the nurse, taking a moment to glance inside every door they passed.

For a moment, he put himself in the shoes of the criminals he helped convict. Was this how they felt when they were being led out of the courtroom? But he reasoned himself out of that delusion less than a moment later. His situation was riddled with a tremendous amount of uncertainty and concern. The convicted criminal's fate was very certain, and the chance of remorse could not be mistaken for legitimate concern. And to add to that, he wasn't entirely sure why concern was even necessary in either case.

The nurse, meanwhile, was more focused on the fact that L had left his shoes in the examination room, choosing to walk the halls barefoot.

"Now, I've seen a few people insist on leaving the gown behind. But never their shoes." She eventually broke the awkward silence.

"I don't like shoes." L answered just as awkwardly. The nurse quickly changed the subject.

"I saw you come in with Quillsh Wammy, the famous inventor." She noted. "Are you from the orphanage in Winchester?"

"Yes." L answered.

"I pass by the gates every morning on my way in." she looked over at the boy. "It's a school for geniuses, right? One of my coworkers told me that one of the world's top detectives works there with the inventor. Is that true? Have you ever met him?"

"It isn't wise to believe everything you hear." he shrugged, paying little notice to her reaction.

The x-ray room was cold, and the odd grey patterns on the wall made it feel oddly colder. Fortunately, while L had difficulty even attempting to straighten his posture, standing extremely still was something he could do almost effortlessly.

The radiologist first took an image of L from behind. The second was from the side, as he suspended his arms on top of a tall metal pole. The tests were over in a matter of minutes, and the nurse walked him back to the earlier examination room.

"I would like for you to make another appointment, this time at the hospital. The x-rays will only show us a partial picture. An MRI will show whether there's any swelling in the spinal cord sac as well as other potential causes of the advanced curvature." Dr. Watson informed Watari. "And perhaps a geneticist as well. As he's an orphan we have little to go on as far as family history. But first, there is a more pressing test that needs to be scheduled."

The elder gentleman nodded.

"I will refer you to a cardiologist at once." His voice was quite serious. "I want a cardiac ultrasound done, as soon as you are able."


	5. Speculation

L only heard the final words as he turned the corner. It was now very obvious that he was here because of his crooked back, and that attempts would likely be made to correct the problem. The look on Watari's face, however, suggested that there was new, unexpected information.

"What must be done as soon as you are able, Watari?" L questioned immediately.

He nibbled on his thumbnail awaiting a response. The fact that it didn't come immediately meant that his guardian was thinking of how best to phrase the answer. And any answer that has to be gingerly delivered is clearly bad news.

"I see…" L answered for the older gentleman.

"Right now, it's only speculation." Watari eventually answered, knowing well that L may have already figured out everything he could possibly say.

"Your demeanor was completely calm until I took off my shirt." He reasoned. "And you only muttered thoughtfully as the doctor probed my back. Since the x-ray films are still being developed, there is no conceivable way that you could know how good or bad the result will be. And even if they aren't very good, given that until now you saw no reason to be concerned, you would likely consider the treatment as cosmetic. But you are not just concerned. You are actually worried…"

The doctor watched in awe as L traced out his line of thought.

"Since you do not worry unnecessarily about anything, it stands to reason that there is something more. My back must be only a small part of a larger picture, or a symptom of an underlying condition that I'm not aware of having. Also, that it must pose some amount of actual medical risk. Your unwillingness to answer directly leads me to believe that the risk is statistically significant."

All this from a simple hesitation, Watari thought to himself. L truly was a brilliant detective.

"Yes." he finally answered. "Dr. Watson is concerned about just that. He believes you fit the profile for a condition known as Marfan Syndrome, which can cause serious complications if left properly managed."

L pondered that answer rather stoically, as though he were looking through a case file of a foreign criminal. In the meantime, his own case file of x-rays had arrived.

"I see."

The doctor was surprised how calm L's voice sounded, how logical he approached the situation. Most patients grew terrified at the thought of being diagnosed with a rare, life changing, if not life threatening, condition. At the very least, they showed some degree of nervous concern.

"If I do fit the profile, then suspicion is warranted. Which tests are required to either confirm or dismiss this suspicion?"

"You will need to meet with an ophthalmologist and cardiologist. My office can refer you to some of the best in England. But first, let's have a better look at your back, Lawliet. This is more than just, as you put it, a cosmetic problem."

He clamped the x-ray films onto a light box, and pulled the pen from his pocket. L watched him draw several right angles between the vertebrae, connecting the lines with even more angles. The curves in his spine were spelled out in simple black and white. There was little grey area, save the hazy tint around his pelvis.

That grey area was where the doctor's pen struck first.

"Until this bone solidifies completely, your spine is still growing. That means the curves you see here have a strong chance of getting worse. As it is, there are two curves, offsetting each other. Both of them are thirty degrees. Normal is next to zero."

L bit his thumbnail as the doctor pointed to the lateral x-ray.

"The kyphotic curve is almost fifty degrees." Again L bit into his thumbnail. "Normal is twenty-five to thirty degrees."

"And what would you suggest be done?" Watari asked politely.

"I recommend bracing him immediately. That'll hold the curves in place until he stops growing."

A door slammed in the distance, and L tensed.


	6. Endurance

L didn't particularly enjoy the weeks that followed. But in his mind, this was just another case that needed to be solved. And that meant that all angles had to be studied, all evidence had to be considered, and all personal sacrifices had to be endured. As a case, it also meant that losing was not an option. Watari would easily admit that L was still very childish in that way. He hated to lose, which meant he was willing to endure almost anything. And unfortunately, as very little was known about the death of his birth parents, there was much that he was going to have to endure.

They met with an orthopedist, who more thoroughly evaluated L's lanky skeleton and the joints that held it together.

They met with an ophthalmologist and underwent a thorough slit lamp evaluation. L found the increased light sensitivity in the first few hours after the test to be particularly bothersome, as the glare from his computer was so bothersome that he could not work.

They met with a cardiologist for an ultrasound, which provided a better look at his heart valves and aorta. L did his best to not flinch as the cold gel was smeared over his chest and the instrument bumped into the unusual indentation along his sternum.

For L, the MRI was the most difficult of the tests. As he informed Watari later that day, the chamber could be put to much better use serving to interrogate murder suspects.

"You aren't claustrophobic, are you?" the nurse had said to him as he laid uncomfortably on his back.

"No. Why?" he returned curiously.

Claustrophobia should have been the least of her concerns...

Because multiple areas of his spine needed to be assessed, the MRI was broken up into three rounds. Each round inside the tube was filled with an almost endless series of loud ticking noises. For L, who disliked even the slamming of a nearby door or a misplaced cell phone, this was almost unbearable. His sudden flinching caused numerous distorted images, and each round had to be repeated at least twice. He was almost thankful that by the time the machine reached his neck, the technicians had chosen to strap down his head. It was likely the only thing that kept him even remotely still.

"We won't have the results for you for several weeks." They were told.

By this point, that information was second only L's desire to get as far away from the MRI machine and that facility as soon as possible.

"I understand these things take time." Watari answered in the boy's place, as he watched L slink out the revolving door without even uttering a word.

Watari opened the back door to the towncar, and L climbed inside. He crouched on the backseat, still visibly shaken. The guardian walked to the other side of the car, and sat down next to him for a moment.

"The images they obtained had better be satisfactory." He slurred as he bit harder into his thumb. "I'm not going to do that again."

"It's over now." Watari offered, but that didn't seem to give L any consolation. "Why don't we stop for something sweet on the way back? Some ice cream will help take the edge off a little. You certainly deserve it."

"…With strawberries?"

"I don't see why not."


	7. Interpretation

Watari sat quietly across from L, holding a small vanilla ice cream cone in his hand. The boy, meanwhile, was plucking a strawberry off a generously sized sundae.

"Thank you, Watari." L replied with the strawberry still in his mouth. He gently picked up a spoon, and scraped a small sample of the ice cream from the bowl. It was very sweet, just how he liked it.

"You deserve a reward after this week. Three solved cases, as well as the tests."

For the first time in hours, L was finally calm enough to think reasonably about the situation he had just been put through.

"Which is a case I very much would like solved. Though it is possible that the tests will not be conclusive."

Watari arched an eyebrow.

"The eye exam was likely superfluous." He reasoned. "The majority of those with this Marfan Syndrome already exhibit marked nearsightedness or visual distortion. The rate of glaucoma is only 35 and dislocated lenses is only 65, typically occurring within the first year of age."

L kept talking as he ate.

"I would also think that further tests on my back are unnecessary. The rate of spinal deformity in Marfan cases is only 50 with only about one third of those individuals needing treatment. It is already clear that I fit into that category. Further evidence isn't needed."

"The MRI was conducted to rule out other serious problems in your spinal cord."

"The possibility of swelling of the spinal cord sac, yes. However, the protocol for most cases of dural ectasia is to simply leave it alone. Spinal shunting would be a last resort for only severe cases." L continued. "Given that the most frequent symptom of this particular condition would be backache, and that I already find backache tolerable, there is a 97.3 chance that the results of that test would not matter at all. At least not to me."

Watari looked at him rather sternly after that remark.

"In fact, there is a significant probability that all of my supposed symptoms are occurring together by chance alone. These deformities can occur on their own, without the presence of Marfan Syndrome."

He plucked another strawberry off the sundae and dangled it above his mouth.

"A favorable conclusion." He bit into the strawberry.

"What would you estimate the probability of multiple symptoms occurring simply by chance?"

L licked chocolate syrup off his spoon.

"Less than 10."

"Which is why the cardiac ultrasound…"

"Is the most important test of all. The rate of cardiac impairment in those with Marfan Syndrome is 90. Should the ultrasound reveal no deformities, the probability of multiple symptoms attributed to chance will increase dramatically. And the case would be closed."

"In your mind, the results of that test would hold the answer to whether or not you have the condition?"

"Yes." L answered, his mouth full.

Watari watched L for a few minutes. He had almost finished the entire sundae, and was now running his finger along the side of the bowl to retrieve a lost dollop of chocolate syrup.

"Have you considered what will happen if you are part of the 90?" Watari finally asked.

L twirled the spoon around in his mouth.

"Depending on complications, I could expect to either live a full life or die before I reach forty-five." He answered plainly, the spoon still in his mouth. "However, given its rarity, there is a 79.8 chance that in the event of a medical emergency, a dissected aorta, for instance, I would find myself at a facility that knows nothing about the condition or what complications would arise. And I would likely die from that miscalculation regardless of how old I might be."

L's logic once again impressed his guardian, though he wished it was being applied to a different topic.

"You sound as though you accept that result."

"I don't have much of a choice." L licked the last bit of syrup from his fingers. "But worrying is pointless until the results of the cardiac ultrasound are made available."

Watari only nodded.


	8. Torture

L nibbled on a small lollipop as he waited. He and Watari were the only people in the small waiting room, which made it appear about twice its normal size. The results of the cardiac ultrasound were still being processed, but Dr. Watson had advised Watari to go ahead and make an appointment with the orthotist. In his professional opinion, the sooner Lawliet was fitted with a brace, the better.

L, however, was noticeably less thrilled about the new interruption to his steady stream of casework. And he nearly fell out of his chair when the door was thrust open with a hearty slam. It knocked a picture frame off the wall, breaking what appeared to be a picture of the orthotist's young daughter.

"Come on back, Lawliet. Dr. Hughes is ready for you."

Removing his shirt in front of Watari and Dr. Watson the first time made him feel uneasy. Compared to that, this was downright humiliating, L thought to himself as he climbed onto a large table.

He was wearing only a pair of white boxer briefs, which he'd been absolutely insistent on not removing.

"They're sure to be ruined." One of the assistants reminded him as he pinned Dr. Watson's x-rays to a nearby light box.

"I don't particularly care." He answered sternly, as the other assistant pulled a thin sleeve of nylon over his head. She struggled to pull down over his body, and eventually left it hanging at his waist.

"Lawliet, the kind of brace Dr. Watson recommended helps overcompensate for your scoliosis and stop the curves from progressing. But you'll be happy to know that it won't interfere with your daily activity. Your guardian said that you are very busy with your studies, and that you were worried how the younger children at the orphanage would react to your new brace. This one was designed to help that."

"How so?"

"You'll only need to wear it at night, when you're sleeping."

L glared at the doctor, and then back at Watari.

"There is a 90.4 chance that Roger put you up to this one too."

Watari offered a small smile back to L that confirmed his suspicions. Complying with treatment would necessitate a more rigid sleeping schedule, an issue that L had clashed with Roger about several times in the past month alone. On the one hand, growing teenagers needed their sleep. On the other, unsolved murders are not resolved in the land of dreams.

"All right, Lawliet, lay down on your back, and we'll get started."

If the MRI machine didn't arouse a confession out of a hardened criminal, this particular method might, he reasoned. No sooner had L's back hit the table, Dr. Hughes was strapping his legs down. The assistants pushed and shoved his back across the table, forcing it to bend in the opposite direction that it normally did. He twitched, crying out for Watari as they held him in place while Dr. Hughes pulled the first strip of wet cotton from a bucket.

"Try to hold still Lawliet." Dr. Hughes put his hands on the boy's shoulders for a moment until the thrashing stopped. "We need to make a plaster cast of your back, or we can't make a brace that fits you properly."

He nodded again to his assistants, who started passing the cotton back and forth between each other. As they moved up the front of his body, the doctor forcefully pushed L's shoulders against the table. A loud popping noise was masked by the sound of his head slamming onto the plastic.

"Watari!!" L shrieked, having never felt something so painful in his life. He stretched his arm towards his guardian, even though it was impossible to cling to him with the distance between them.

The orthotist said nothing, simply holding him down as the plaster started to set. They flipped L over with ease.

"Watari!" he cried again as his left cheek was pressed against the table. The wet plaster stuck to his skin through the nylon sleeve. It was cold, and he shivered as much as he twitched under the pressure. Having nothing else to grab, he clutched the leg of the table with his right hand. He would have done so with his left hand as well, but the doctor's hands were in the way.

They adjusted his back further as they passed the cotton back and forth again. With each small nudge, L winced.

"We're almost through, Lawliet. You're doing well!" One of the assistants offered reassuringly, but it was far too little far too late.

When the plaster first started to dry, L felt relieved. But as it dried, he quickly retracted that observation. It burned his skin, and trying to move was only answered by a calm push against his back.

"Stay still. Don't get up yet." They reminded him.

He held onto the legs of the table and bit his lip. He sucked his stomach in as far as it would go, but for someone as thin as L was, that didn't help very much. And it felt like hours had passed before the assistants peeled his hands from the table and flipped him again.

Dr. Hughes cut through the sides of the plaster cast, carefully pulling the front half off of L's body.

"You can sit up now." He passed it aside.

L pushed himself up. No sooner had they peeled the back half of the cast from his body, he fell back onto the table. He curled up on one side and pulled his knees in tightly. His entire torso was bright red and his back hurt.

"Are you all right, Lawliet?" Dr. Hughes asked.

L only trembled, not daring to justify such a ridiculous question with a response. Watari approached him cautiously, and put a gentle hand on his back. They both knew what would happen next. An ordeal like this was probably going to require both ice cream and cake.


	9. Diagnosis

It was a chilly autumn day when the test results finally arrived.

"No, Mihael. You can't have my chocolate bar." L groaned at the five-year-old that literally hung off his neck. "I already gave you your piece."

"But Mail took it!" the boy whined. L turned his head, to see the other boy sitting quietly on the steps playing the Game Boy he'd been given back in February.

"I did not! You ate it! Stop lying!"

The doorbell interrupted the potential tantrum as Mail scurried off the steps to let Roger by.

"Greetings, Dr. Watson. Do come in. To what do we owe this visit?"

L peered cautiously from around the corner, with Mihael now straddling him like a horse. The doctor came inside. In his hands were a large, cumbersome package and a smaller manila envelope. L watched his actions curiously. He knew the package and the envelope were for him.

Mihael, however, didn't care much about the package or the envelope. He took his opportunity to seize the chocolate bar out of L's hand, and jump onto the floor.

"Mine!" he shouted, running right past Roger and into another room. The adults paid him little notice

"Is Quillish Wammy in this afternoon?"

"He is in his office. This way, please." Roger answered politely. As they turned the corner, Roger put his hand on L's shoulder. "You too. Come along."

L followed Roger and the doctor into Watari's office, and tensed as the door shut behind him.

"I believe you know why I am here." He put down the package next to L and carefully opened the envelope. "I collected all of the results, and I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"The results of the cardiac ultrasound?" L asked, clutching his knees as he crouched in the chair.

"There is evidence of aortic dilation." Dr. Watson pulled out his notes. "3.4 centimeters. While this is not severe enough to be considered an aneurysm, there is a strong possibility that it will worsen over time. It could allow a leakage of blood back into the heart. The aorta could easily dissect or tear, a serious medical emergency."

"I see."

"We also found abnormal motion of the mitral valve when the heart contracts. Thus making the heartbeat slightly irregular."

Watari glanced over at L, who seemed to be taking this new information in with his usual logic.

"The probability of symptoms occurring by chance alone has dropped to less than 1." He whispered. "This case is easily closed."

"What can we do for him?" Roger asked.

"I recommend medicine to help lower his blood pressure and decrease the forcefulness of his heartbeat. That can decrease the risk of a dissection and slow down the enlargement." The doctor replied. "And do what you can to minimize further stress on the aorta."

Dr. Watson looked over at L.

"We will have to continue to monitor your heart, Lawliet, an electrocardiogram every six months for the next few years to check the enlargement of your aorta. Then we can determine if surgery will be necessary to correct the problem. But for now, we can afford to keep to a more conservative treatment."

"I understand."

"As for your spine, your brace is ready. And you can begin wearing it tonight."

L nibbled on his thumb, and uneasy stares were shared. Taking L's unspoken suggestion, Watari kindly asked Roger to take the parcel upstairs, leaving the two of them alone with the doctor.

"It is understandable that you might feel distraught, Lawliet. This is a serious condition that is chronic and progressive." Dr. Watson added. "But new developments are continually being made that can help you live a full life."

"On the contrary, I am relieved." L interrupted quietly. "The case is closed."

He climbed out of the chair and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Watari and the doctor looked at each other, and then back at L.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe Mihael took my chocolate bar."


	10. Protocol

The years after that went by quickly, as L's reputation as the world's greatest detective spread throughout many countries. He kept his condition, much like his name and most of his other identifying characteristics, a carefully guarded secret.

Of course, that did not eliminate its existence.

The combination alpha and beta blocker prescribed for his heart brought with it the stubborn side effect of sleeplessness. At its best, it allowed L to work endlessly on several cases at once. At its worst, it was an excuse to avoid strapping himself into the brace he was supposed to be wearing every night. Both results annoyed Roger endlessly, which was, of course, another plus.

Watari stayed close by, becoming L's assistant in almost all of his daily routines. He did his best to cater to L's needs, limiting the detective's vigorous physical activity in favor of preventing a sudden aortic rupture.

In fact, Watari's very presence could easily be the difference between life and death. Should the symptoms of an aortic dissection appear, Watari would be able to make sure L would be treated quickly and appropriately. It was essential that they remain in constant contact.

Roger, meanwhile, remained at the orphanage. Knowing that L could die left him with the important job of finding a possible successor – one who could be trained to take over in L's place. And already, a few candidates were coming to mind.

As the years passed, some symptoms improved. Others only worsened. But even in the midst of the Kira investigation, the taskforce still suspected nothing.

They never thought to reason that his odd manner of sitting was actually relieving the intense pain he felt in his back. Or that he was in pain at all, for that matter. He was as good at disguising that as he was his own identity. And while they noticed the constant spoonfuls of sugar, they never once saw the medicine go down.

But as the case drew on, L found it necessary to take his chances, whether it was overexerting himself through a tennis match or confronting the suspected Kira directly. He knew he was putting his life on the line the minute he confronted Light in the To-Oh University exams. The task force never even realized he was putting it on the line in far more ways than one.

That, of course, was probably for the best. To display such a grave weakness would have been to give Kira an advantage. And that was an advantage L couldn't afford to allow Kira to have.

Whether his condition killed him or Kira killed him, so L reasoned, it didn't matter. There was a 95.2 chance that the result would be the same either way. As long as justice could be served, he could rest in peace.


	11. Epilogue

"Ryuuzaki!"

The voices of the task force grew faint as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He looked up into Light's eyes and saw Kira smile.

How L wished he could tell him, but he couldn't quite make himself speak. This was no heart attack. Of that, L was 96 sure. If someone took an electrocardiogram at this exact moment, they would have been able to see the difference. The lack of sweating, the lack of immediate heart failure, all the evidence pointed to that one conclusion.

Light wouldn't know that until he found the notebook, and learned that the last name that Rem had written in it before she expired belonged to Watari. But in the meantime, fueled by the erroneous belief that he'd finally won, Kira might reveal himself to the others just enough to secure his guilt. If only they would watch for it…

As L's eyes shut, he could hear Light screaming. It was a good show, but a show nonetheless. And he was alive enough to feel his body being passed to another taskforce member.

He knew that there was only a slim chance that he would survive the night. The chance of surviving until he reached a hospital was less than 50. The chance of surviving after that, 10 at best.

"Ryuuzaki!" they shouted again. Matsuda shook him. "Ryuuzaki, stay with us…"

It appears I overestimated, L thought to himself one last time before he lost consciousness completely. It's less than 3...


End file.
